Moving forward
by HeirofLudwig
Summary: A fanfiction I wrote for a friend of mine. Happy birthday, Ava !


''How does it feel ?''

The recognizable tick of the metronome. The creaking sound of the leather under her body whenever she moved. In front of her, sat on a long chair, a man in his sixties was looking directly into her dark eyes. She wanted to move. She wanted to squirm. But with every movement, she felt an invisible knife carving its way into her knee. And as always, Ymir would bite her cheek, and soon enough, the familiar, metallic taste of blood invaded her mouth. She always did that. Pain was familiar to her. She grew up with it. Molded by it. From her deepest memories, she could still feel pain. Poor girl, someone would think when seeing her limping, dragging her carcass like that. That's probably what the old man was thinking, she thought.

''You know. The usual.'' replied Ymir, her tone as indifferent as she could muster it up.

The usual.

Waking up every morning with the feeling of excruciating pain in her leg. As if melting metal had been poured inside of her bones. It was surprising that Ymir could sleep only so well with using her prescribed medication to numb her pain. Exhaling her breath through her nose, Ymir closed her eyes for a moment. One second, and she opened it again. But it had been a long second. Another flaring pain in the knee. Another painful remembrance that Ymir had lost something during that fateful day. Her jaw clenched. She felt the eyes of that old man on her. Empathetic, and sympathetic eyes. The freckled girl did everything to control her breathing. To not scream at the world. To not grab the table between them and throw it on the side. Dark eyes loomed into the therapist's sapphire orbs. Ymir cursed him inwardly for having eyes that reminded her of what was back at home. Of the humiliation she felt everytime she felt eyes on her, wether it was from that old prick or... _her_. Of the anger she is feeling on a daily basis, and even then, anger would be an understatement. It was pure unalduterated rage.

''The usual, hmm ?'' mused the old man, moon-shaped eyeglasses crowning his nose.

''Cut with the bullshit and empathy,'' spat out Ymir in an incredibly calm and almost apathetic voice, ''and tell me what is your prognostic this time.''

The law of jungle commonly dictated that only the strongest can survive the harshness of this world. Of any world. To say that Ymir was a survivor was an euphemism. Beneath her brown leathery jacket and her t-shirt, the freckled girl was sculpted in the clay of a rough life. Robust, tensed abs which would put any bodybuilder to shame, and arms strong enough to had maked her win many bets when it came to arm wrestling. They weren't made to show-off. They were made to hurt. They were made to impose her strenght upon adversaries. Long legs beneath dark blue jeans which granted her grace and agility, while giving her the strenght to kick harder than most, to climb faster. She was tall, for a girl, around five foot eight. Her face looked like it had been carved with a knife by a talentuous sculptor. Thin eyebrows above deep dark eyes, with lips that would sometimes turn into a snarly, vicious grin. Freckles covered her face, in a way that gave her more beauty, a more exotic look. And yet, despite her butch-y look maked her more masculine than feminine, despite the presence of a small, but firm chest, and the occasionnal flirty smile she would make when she wasn't downright grinning like a predator. She was intimidating and she imposed her presence casually with her calm, but confident demeanor.

And yet, the old man in front of her didn't budged or flinched. He was smaller than her, had a slightly round belly and a round face. She thought of Dumbledore, but his beard was smaller and he wasn't tall like him. But surely, he had those lively, vivid and energetic eyes, reminding her of a calm lake, awake but resting. And despite her own strenght, her own abilities, Ymir was afraid. Deep within her, that shameful, anger-inducing feeling inside of her gnawed at her core. Fear. An invisible snake constricting her ribcage and her windpipe when she felt it. Her mouth was dry. With a professionalism she envied, the old man replied.

''We both know it won't change, until you change, Ymir Hrodgeirsson.''

''You think I didn't change ? I fucking did everything you told me. Meditate, relaxation, enjoying something else, everything ! And it still doesn't work !''

''Because you keep thinking that you would be able to go back to work. To whenever you were before. But we both know that it's not true.'' With the tip of his pen, the old man pointed to her leg. ''Not with this.''

Her hands turned into fists, staring into the eyes of this person who dared to oppose to her views. Pursing her lips, Ymir spoke through her teeths, venom sipping into each words as she tried to remain calm and civil.

''Is there anything else you would like to add ?'' She asked.

''Like everytime you came here since the last two weeks... No.'' He answered back, eyes locking it into hers.

There had been no progress made, she deciphered into his eyes. Her heartbeat became painful. Thickly swallowing, Ymir grabbed the cane she brought with her and got up, using the instrument as a support. She held the handle so hard her knuckles turned paler. Her arm shaked. Trying not to look into those blue eyes, she headed toward the door. Her cheeks heated up. No. She didn't want to ask for help. She didn't want to have someone get up and try to lead her outside, or call a cab. No, she didn't. It was hard enough to live like this. The door behind her closed. The trip back to home would be long.

* * *

''Ymir, get down !''

She didn't have time to react. First, she felt it. One moment, she was looking into the door, and not even a second had passed that she heard footsteps from the corner of her hallway, followed by the staccato of a submachine gun. Her vision turned white. It was like she was floating on another, endless white plane of existence. She didn't feel anything, for a fleeting moment. And yet, in that fleeting moment, she heard something. A distant moan, coming from a direction. And the more she listened to it, the more she became horrified by the source. By the origin of that distorted chanting.

It was her.

Ymir was crying on the ground. Searing pain to her leg. Her throat was sore with the howling of pain that came from within her. Something she thought, and wished she would never have heard in her life. She saw that wound on her leg. A bloody mess, where her knee should have been, holding onto it like it was her entire life. Her black uniform was dirty with soot and grime. The HRT's patch, once bright, now torn apart from her. She writhed on the ground, trying to hold her leg together. In her mind, it looked like she would loose it. The exchanges of fire with her team and those who defended their grounds continued. In the middle of it, she felt someone grabbing her by her shoulder. Reiner, looking through his protective glasses, had a haunted look on his face, but ultimately determined to pull her away from the fights.

''You won't fucking die, you won't, Ymir !''

She felt like her heart was pounding hard enough to shatter her ribcage, that her lungs would deflate on themselves with how she breathed, that her throat would burn with the air itself. She wanted it all to end. She wanted it to stop. Armin came into her sight, and held her leg in place.

''Eren, Connie, hold her down, I won't be able to work if she keeps moving like that !'' cried out the blonde, pulling a knife and began to cut Ymir's legwear.

''You won't die, look, breath Ymir, breath !'' said Connie, holding unto her arm, his eyes frantically going to point A – her – from point B – the other squad taking their place – while trying to calm himself down.

''Don't move Ymir, don't fucking move, you're spraying blood all over Armin !'' screamed Eren.

Her world became confused, and despite that, her head was clear. The deafening sound of gunfire would have exploded the eardrums of anyone in this tight hallway, and yet she heard clearly her teammates speaking. Her body was slowly going numb, but that fiery burn within her leg was persistent in its existence. She was surrounded by her friends, but felt desperately alone. She was going to die, she had thought. She was going to die in this shithole of a place, just to save the remaining civilians trapped within the grasps of these people. It was a part of the job, Levi had told everyone whenever they lost civilian lives during an operation, and we need to deal with it, even if it's one of us.

''Stay awake ! Don't fall asleep, Ymir !'' cried out Reiner.

Strong arms tried to shake her off from blacking out, and she heard something inintelligible. Darkness slowly shrouded her vision. Her body became colder and colder. She wanted to sleep.

A voice, of silk and cool honey, broke her up from her dream.

_''Ymir ? Are you okay?''_

* * *

Eyes shot open. A sudden inhaling of breath. The smell of meat cooked in the kitchen. Her body was already shaking. Ymir doubled over, a hand clamped shut on her mouth and she closed her eyes, swallowing her vomit with all her might. Tears prickled to the side of her eyes, her hair was unkempt and messy, falling on her shoulders, freed from her bun. Her body tensed and she gagged, causing her to fall from her chair. Her face landed on the carpet and she already felt the content of her stomach rising up in her throat. In a familiar motion, she grabbed the bucket Krista had brought her and poured her feelings, literally, into it.

The door opened in a hurry. Long blonde hair falling behind her back, wearing casual clothing and an apron, her eyes were shot in horror, at the sight of Ymir on the ground, retching up the content of her stomach into the bucket. Rushing out to her wife, Krista dropped on her knees and tried to hold onto Ymir's shoulder, to raise her up.

''Baby, are you okay ?!''

''Leave me alone...'' spoke back the woman between two gag.

''But, Ymir -!''

''LEAVE ME ALONE !''

Ymir had tried to shoot a glare at her wife, but she ended up throwing out into the bucket again, albeit some of her bile ended up on the carpet. Krista didn't cared, however. She pulled the hair of her wife, while patting the back of her girlfriend.

But she knew Ymir hated it.

''What happened... Did you dream again ?''

Ymir did not answer. As usual. Her breath was heaving, as if she had ran a marathon. Her throat was burning with the bile and the oxygen trying to make her live. The pupil of her eyes were large, despite the darkness of them. She knew that look. After years of sharing the same bed and the same live, of staring into one another's eyes countless of times for countless of hours, she knew that those eyes were something which maked her feel horrible. Afraid. Horrified.

''Did you take your medication ?''

Immediately, Ymir's eyes drifted away from hers, into the bucket, as if the content had a more interesting matter. Historia drew her blue eyes to the stack of yellow, transparent bottles containing the prescriptions of her wife. They were barely touched, and they had been there for a week.

''Oh, Ymir... Why didn't you take them ?''

''I'm fine, I don't need them.''

''But Ymir, the doctors said-''

''Do you really think I give a damn about what they said ?!'' replied Ymir with a snarl, looking up into the blonde's eyes and shooting a nastly glare. ''Do you ?!''

''But I care about you, Ymir. You know you need them-''

''I SAID I'M FINE !''

Her hand pushed Krista away from her. From her coddling. From her motherly, protective attitude. Ymir dipped her eyes into those of her wife. They were afraid. They were hurt. And she was hurt too. Physically. Mentally. Emotionnally.

Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, Ymir knelt on her good leg and, holding into the furniture closest to her, she rised up. She needed to rise up. She needed to stand her ground. That's what she had been taught. To not loose her grip, her bite to fight. The skin of her face blanched, and bared her teeth out in effort. The pain was there.

''Hold on, Ymir, please, just, stop !''

Ymir ignored Krista rushing past her to grab one of the bottles of medicine.

And she ignored again her wife when she opened the bottle and tried to shove the tasteless pellets into her mouth, her head moving away from her hands.

''Krista, leave me be...''

''No Ymir, take them !''

''Krista.''

''Ymir, please !''

''I don't want them, stop trying to forcefeed me.''

''Ymir Hrodgeirsson Lenz, you will take those pills for the love of whatever god can exist, and you will-''

''ENOUGH !''

She reacted without thinking. She backhanded her wife, and the smack that ensued echoed loudly into their bedroom. A thud. The silence was deafening, almost as the one she experienced nearly a year ago.

Historia looked up to Ymir. She pressed a hand on the cheek which received Ymir's vile intentions. The petite blonde felt the cold bite of fear into her core. In front of her, there wasn't the Ymir she knew. The way the shadows hid one half of her face gave her a more terrifying look. Her eyes looked darker than the shadows, tearing through the darkness of their bedroom. The curtains outside were open and the skies were of a dark grey, profusionely raining down in big, rain drops. Ymir's posture was tensed and she looked more than ready to give another blow. The way she breathed deeply without making a sound, and how her fists ached to grab something, and how she wanted to stand taller than what she was allowed to, with the way her wounded leg trembled slightly.

Despite her bruttish appearance, never did Ymir raised a hand on someone else without a good reason to. She was maybe an asshole with a cranky behavior from time to time, but she was kind, in her own way. Even to the friends she had. But here she was. She did it. And she didn't looked like she regretted it.

''Ymir...''

''Not. A. Word.''

Krista cowered under those words, laying on her back. She felt tears falling on her cheeks. One by one, they fell, and soon, a continous salty stream poured out from her eyes.

''Ymir, please...''

A choked sob escaped her lips. Ymir, on the other hand, barely gruntled something among the lines of 'told you I didn't need them' and without anything else, she walked out of the door. She didn't take her cane with her. She didn't want this wretched thing to remind her of her inability. Of the day she lost her job and future possibility to ever walk normally. She didn't looked back on what she did. She didn't hesitated when she descended the stairs. She didn't reacted to the delicious meal Krista would always make for her whenever she wanted to. But she didn't wanted it anymore. What she wanted was to get ouf of this house who's only purpose was to contain her within its entrail, with nothing but mementos of what was once her house, her heaven. Grabbing her jacket wasn't hard. Neither did the door when she opened it.

And she felt free.

* * *

She had never been prohibited from leaving her own house, be it for a walk or to fetch something. However, it would be a harsh journey, and a painful one. Even with the medication, Ymir was suffering in a great deal. Even for her, whose pain tolerance was inherently high, even for some people within her line of her job, she had her limits. She was human. She was weak.

She drowned that thought with alcohol, and slammed her glass down. The bartender, a male in his thirties, looked over her and she motionned to her glass. Without breaking a sweat, the bartender poured another shot. A small grin formed on her face, and she looked around her.

The last time she went clubbing was after she had been sent overseas with her teammates and came back when a mission had been successful. She would often bring Krista whenever she felt like going outside, as the poor girl had never been the type to drink herself to death for the fun of it. It was a curse but a blessing. She can only remember oh so well Krista had been sick for nearly an entire week after drinking so much alcohol.

No.

Pushing those thoughts away, Ymir grimaced and drank once more. She didn't want to think of her or anyone else at this point. The blonde didn't followed Ymir when she left the house, but deep within her, Ymir knew she was still probably crying. She didn't want to think of her. Of her life. She wanted to forget it all. To think that this was all a dream, a nightmare she would wake up from soon. Perhaps she could drink herself to death and loose herself into the dance floor. Hell, I barely feel anything right now, she thought while swallowing another content of her alcohol. The pain had subsided to a numbing, cold feeling and the worries within her mind turned into relief. She had nothing to think about, nothing to wallow in.

And she felt terribly good at it.

''Hey, can I get the usual ?''

Her eyes drifted to the side momentarily. A woman with a great figure. Brown hair turned into a ponytail and a pleasant face, wearing a dress made of leather and a top which perfectly constricted her respectable chest, and thighs one could dream of to have. Ymir tried to pull her eyes away but she got caught. A malicious grin spreaded into her face, and Ymir couldn't help but smile back in return.

''Well, aren't you quite a thing. What's your name ?'' spoke the stranger.

''Ymir. Ymir Hrodgeirsson.''

''Hrodgeirsson... You're from Iceland or something ?''

''Yeah.'' A chuckle left Ymir's mouth and she raised her glass. ''I'm a fucking viking !''

''A viking ? Should I be afraid of being raided ?'' mused the stranger, grinning and leaning more across the counter.

Ymir was happy that she had drank the entirety of her glass' content before she spoke. Otherwise, she might have choked on it. But she enjoyed her drink as much as she enjoyed this stranger's company. Something else might have happened, in other circumstances. But Ymir was drunk. And with drunkness comes questionnable thoughts. Ymir smirked slightly and tilted her head to the side.

''Depends on the person. But I wouldn't mind making you the master piece of my spoils of war.''

''Mhmm... Would you like to go with me on the dance floor, then ?'' asked the stranger with a smirk.

It didn't take long for Ymir to agree. Gulping down the remnants of her own drink, Ymir followed the stranger to the dance floor. On this point, everything was a confusing blurr. She felt free. She felt good. She felt strong. She felt like before. Happy. Energic. Shooting up her arms in the air and waving them along the music, her hips grinding close to the girl's body, eyes never breaking the contact between them. And for the first time in months, she felt something awakening deep within her. Something primal and carnal. Something she wanted to sate at the moment. Because she knew, despite her drunken behavior, that she could get something out of this, instead of the constant coddling she had been subjected on. That she could feel like before. Strong. Assertive. Independant.

''Do you want to head out somewhere else ?'' read Ymir on her lips.

''Yes'' mouthed back Ymir.

And she followed the stranger.

* * *

''Where were you... I was worried sick.''

Leaning against the wall, Ymir barely closed the door and took a few steps before she heard that soft voice.

Her senses were overstimulated. Her head looked like someone cut half of her skull, poured razor blades inside of her head and closed it all before shaking it all. It was hard to describe how much of a mess the girl was at the moment. Her hair looked like she had gone on a battlefield in the middle of a war, her jacket was wet and covered in mud. Her face was pale due to the things she felt inside of her stomach, waves crashing against the shore before coming back to the sea, only to return after a moment, stronger and colder. She didn't want to pour – again – the content of her body on the carpet of her house. The pants of Ymir were much more damaged than the rest of her body. Any trace of the dark blue jeans were gone, replaced by the brownish matter, of mud and probably shit if she could know any better. The walk back to home had been a torture. The effects of alcohol had worn off and when it did, the moment she used her leg was the moment she nearly blacked out once more.

But at that moment, she thought that her suffering was nothing compared to what was her wife going through.

It's been only a day. In one day, Krista managed to look worst than her. Ymir glanced for a moment to the kitchen. The food she had cooked was still there, on the table, however cold and untouched. The house was plunged in darkness, leaving the job to the windows to provide light, as difficult it could be due to the non-stopping downfall of the droplets of water coming from the sky. The thrumming sound of precipitation was like a lullaby against the materials of the house. A dreading one. Ymir could swear that the handmark she left on her cheek was visible through the slowly spreading blue area that was forming. But that wasn't the scariest.

It was the look of apathy within her eyes, of the endless void within the once bright blue eyes of her wife. As if something had pulled away the everloving look of patience and kindness within them.

One finger was rotating the ring still on the finger.

Ymir didn't. Only a pale circular zone on where she had worn it.

''Somewhere.''

''Somewhere... really...''

It sounded like she wanted to laugh, but almost inaudible sobs escaped her lips. She was sitting in the living, on their couch where they would often be found cuddling when they would watch the television. Krista raised up her eyes, gaze wandering on Ymir's body. Silence was the only thing that spoke, except of the drummer of the pitt-pattering of the rain and the occasionnal car driving by into their street. Ymir felt trapped. She didn't liked that. With the sense of dread piling up into her stomach, along with the clear desire to not vomit, she felt anger too.

''What's that on your neck ?''

''You know the answer.''

She didn't cared about the hickey. She didn't knew of it either, caught up into her own suffering of it, but alas, she knew she had woken up with someone else this morning, inside of someone's else place. Her partner had been asleep. She left without a word. Without looking back.

Without thinking of the consequences.

''You... Who is she ?''

''I don't know. We met. We drinked. We danced. We carried on into the night.''

Ymir didn't wavered.

Neither did Krista.

''You... cheated on me.''

''Yes. I did. I cheated on you.''

A car passed by, honking.

''Why ?''

She couldn't stop herself from smiling at the question. Sardonically smiling. Venom sipped into her words, intenting to hurt.

''She, at least, doesn't ask me every goddamn five minutes if I'm okay. If I'm comfortable. If I'm taking my prescription.''

Krista didn't speak. She blinked. Once. Twice. Thrice. Her finger stopped playing with the ring still worn to the anular.

''Of all day... Why did you choose to drink now ? Before, you didn't. You were always in our bedroom or watching television... but now ?''

''Meditation. Relaxation. Medication. Taking strolls. Neither of those never worked. Neither of those stopped reality to sneak into my head, even into my goddamn dreams.'' spoke out Ymir, moving to grip into something else, while looking into the eyes of her wife. Within her dark eyes, a fire burned. ''You think that it will be like in movies, Krista ? That everything will work out in the end ? That I'll be fucking happy once more and that I'll learn something from it and perhaps teach to others ? No, Krista ! We both know it's not the fucking truth. You're not the one waking up everyday with the knowledge that I lost my job, the only thing that kept me sane, and not only that but the ability to do something as meager as walking. It's already a pain in the ass to fucking tie my shoelaces together, it's more than aching to even take a shit to the toilet without using my cane to walk, Krista !''

Ymir suppressed that nearly unstoppable want to gag, feeling as if she would, in fact, regurgitate her whole stomach. But she continued to speak. She continued to reveal herself.

''Every goddamn day, I'm feeling miserable, because I can't do a thing without you looking at me with the fear that I can fall and break something. This house is nothing but what I was once before. I worked my ass off to get this place for the two of us. I bled, I sweat, I even cried for fuck sake ! And what do I get out of this ? My kneecap, reduced to shards into that theater because some fucktards decided that it was God's bidding that he had been burdened with. One bullet. One. That's all it took to fucking reduce abilities into nothing. Everything I worked for ? Gone, reduced to dust ! And her... She fucking make me felt like I was like before. That I'm not some baby who needs to always have an eye on. And I fucking liked it, Krista. I fucking liked it !''

The tanned girl's chest was heaving with effort, dark orbs locked into the sapphire ones of Krista. The more she had spoken, the more the blonde looked shakened up, the corner of her eyes beginning to be wet.

''Just because you didn't feel like the person you used to be before, you slept with a total stranger ? Just because you wanted to feel gratification ? To have someone to pat on your back and to tell you that you're not worthless ? Ymir, I never thought of you like that !''

''Bullshit.'' snarled Ymir, her fist colliding against a pillar. ''Bullshit !''

''You don't believe me ?!'' The blonde stood up, fists clenching on and off as her body shook with the overwhelming emotions within her body. ''After all this time ? After me taking care of you everyday ?! I cooked for you, worked when we needed money, from dawn till dusk sometimes, and you're here complaining about it ? You cheated on me, hit me and left me all night without even a word of where were you, just because you wanted to feel like before ? Is that it, Ymir ?! Tell me, what was I to you ?!''

''Like an overprotective mother that doesn't want her kid to move around and keep her inside.''

The two of them glared into each other's eyes. Ymir trembled, so did Krista. One minute passed without a word being exchanged.

''I love you.'' Krista spoke, sniffling and wiping her cheeks with the sleeve of her shirt. ''Ymir, i love you so much... But you don't want to understand that you can't go back to the past.''

''I can.'' Ymir spoke, her fist colliding against the pillar once more. ''I didn't fight and carved my way into life in order to end like this. It will not, until I've said so. You understand, Krista ? No. Fucking. Way.''

Another car passed by, honking. Ymir didn't wavered her gaze, even under the scrutiny of her wife's blue eyes.

The ring fell into the floor. The noise clear crystal into Ymir's ears.

''Then I guess it's over.''

* * *

Snow fell outside, covering the streets and the city in a gentle, white coat. The wind was blowing, bellowing some mournful thing that only few could appreciate. And understand. Trees were now deprived of their once orange leaves. Their barks were cold and hard, covered in ice. The moon shone in the sky through the thick layers of clouds, sometimes being shrouded by the white masses moving, though their shades were darker. For a moment, the moment shone again after a cloud passed by in front of it and left a hole in the sky. The moonlight reflected through the window of a lonely, gloomy house, reaching the glass of a brown bottle which reflected said moonlight into something else. Into the wooden fabric of a guitar.

The strings of the instrument hummed into the air, notes reverberating within the living room. Particles of light shone again against one of the many bottle of beers littered around the living room, giving a more better view of Ymir. Her hair was longer, greasy and certainly dirty. Her face was sunken, with no fat on her cheeks, bags developped under her eyes. Her lips were dry and chapped. Ymir barely breathed. Perhaps she would have looked like an undead if it wasn't for the few flickers of light within her dark eyes, embers of what had once been hers. She swallowed nothing, a tic she had developped throughout the many months that had passed after Krista left their house. It had been quick. It had been short. It had been formal. Cold, but formal.

Following her departure, Ymir felt something she hadn't felt in a long time. Something which slipped out from the darker corners of her life and wrapped itself around her heart in a vice grip, soon spreading out in the entirety of her body. It squeezed her lungs hard like it did with her stomach, and branded her brain with it, fueling her mind with more nightmare than ever as if it had became the industrial production of something more insidious to wear her out. Nothing could have helped her. Even the temporary help of alcohol and, perhaps, some more shady susbtances, could have prepared her to receive the visit of an old 'friend' in her life.

Loneliness.

Her fingers moved in complex gestures, jumping to one cord to another as each note expressed her inner state, something she hardly have the ability to talk of. A poor soul wandering in the vast, endless cold landscape of isolation. Never would she have the ability to die, for the fire within her, while weak, kept burning on, and yet, she could only wish that sometimes, she could fall and never get up, to let the numbing glacial cold seep into her core until she wouldn't move. Nor breath. To simply let it go, to finally rest into a deep slumber.

And yet, she couldn't.

She remembered her childhood, in Iceland, on a rather secular and harsh region.

In particular, her father.

* * *

''Why did you do it ?''

He was working outside, and she was watching him. Behind her, their house, small and nearly blending in with the hills as another pile of snow. An axe in hand, he was cutting wood, and she was picking up the pieces for their fire tonight. Her face had a somber look, a small bandage on her lip.

''She talked about mother. That it's good that she died when I was born. That I shouldn't have been born and that I'm destroying whatever I'm touching.''

Another blow with the axe. Another piece to pick up.

Her father looked into her direction. Solemn and calm are two words that could be used to describe him. His eyes were unlike hers, of a pale green. A thick black beard on his face, wrinkled by time. He was old, yet so lively.

''And your best reaction was to beat her up ?''

''You said I should defend myself.''

''If a dog were to bark at you, would you bark at it back, Ymir ?''

She didn't replied. Her father kept his eyes on her, and under his gaze, she danced on her feet, unsure of what to do. He had always been able to intimidate her. Everyone had always been intimidating by this man. But he was her father. Resting the axe against a pile of log, the male walked over the little girl and crouched to be at her level. His thumb gentle ran across her cheek.

''How can you put up with what they say about mother ?'' asked the little girl

''I have far more important matters to deal with than what they could say. Or think. That is, you. To make sure you go at school, eat properly and be healthy.''

''Aren't you exhausted, sometimes ?''

''Of what ?''

''Of me.''

''No. I am exhausted. But not of you. You're my daughter.''

She felt his rough lips pressing on her forehead. Ymir found herself smiling ever so slightly, and she headed back inside the house with him. It was small, but it had everything she needed. Nothing fancy and distracting. There was no sign of televisions, only an old radio her father used to communicate with other people sometimes, or to listening to the news, about the weather, or anything, really. She sat on their old couch, witness of so many nights spent cuddling with her father, like at this moment.

''What was the hardest thing you had done, dad ?''

Her eyes were fixated on the fire of their chimney, her head laying on the chest of the male. Listening to his heartbeat. Listening to his breathing.

''Moving forward.''

''Moving... forward ?''

''Yes.''

''What do you mean ?''

The male shifted, clearing his throat.

''Do you remember that time when your dog died ?''

''Hengil ? Yes, I do.''

''You cried for one week. You barely had eaten during that time, and you had collected everything she had brought to you. A stick, a toy, and even a compass she found. Do you remember that ?''

''Yes.''

''One day, I found you burying a box containing all of those things she had brought you on that tree, near the lake. After that, you felt good. That's moving forward, Ymir. To let go of something that was once something meaningful to you. Even when it's hard.''

''When did you move forward, father ?''

Another silence. Her father inhaled deeply, and she listened to him.

''I didn't have a mother too, when I was young. Barely had anything. She was a junkie, and my father, she never knew him. A stranger she had shared a night with before leaving somewhere else. I grew up poor, but I grew up with someone, at least. She wasn't the best woman around. But she was a mother. She did everything she could until she passed away when I was twelve. She had been robbed one night and the robber shot at her. I lived with whoever took me in until I was fifteen, where I decided to live on my own. There was no future for me. Nothing. I wasn't even good at school. So I drank and did drugs. I found comfort within them. Even when i knew I wasn't feeling good, I took comfort with them. Because it was easy to succumb to anger, to hatred against the world. I was not a good man. I was always fighting, for my survival or for whatever I had. And when I was twenty-five years old, I met your mother.''

She didn't looked at him. But she knew he was having one of those smile that he could muster up. A small ray of sunshine amidst a cold land.

''She was so bright and beautiful. I met her during a festival. I wasn't the type of guy who would go to woman. But I did. And we clicked. She was my first love.''

''That's when you decided to move forward ?''

''No. It happened later. She couldn't stand me after a while. I drinked and kept taking drugs with the few friends I had been with. Without them, I wouldn't have been here, Ymir. They were my friends. Bad friends, but friends anyway. And that's something I didn't understand. Or perhaps I did, but stayed with them by loyalty. Either way, she threatened to leave me behind if I didn't stopped, even if she loved me.'' A silence followed this statement, which lasted for a few seconds. ''I left them. I'm not going to lie, I kept looking back sometimes, because the reality I faced with was something I couldn't cope with. I was... not a good man. I argued a lot with your mother. I nearly even hit her after a fit from my part. It lasted too long. Months. After that, I learned more about myself.''

Ymir stayed silent. She never remembered her father wavering. His voice, calm like the water of a lake. His heartbeat steady like the tempo of a musician. She wanted to ask questions, but she knew that listening could be a better idea. And it proved to be true.

''I could have been a better man, early on. But I was hurt. Hurt that my mother had been killed while I was somewhere else. Hurt that my mother died too early. Hurt that I had no father. Hurt that I had been born in such a place. I never did anything, until your mother was there. I was drawned to her, like a moth would be to a candle.'' The father placed a hand upon her hair. The skin of his hands were rough, calloused. She liked the feeling. Closing her eyes, Ymir hummed in content, listening to her father. ''It was hard. But it was worth it, in the end. I never saw my friends since then. I hope that they're safe, now.''

''She supported you from the beginning ?'' Ymir asked

''Yes. She did. No matter what, she never lost faith in me. I don't know who had it rougher... her or me.''

''I don't know.''

Her father got off the couch, and knelt beside the chimney. Throwing logs into it, the male sat back with his daughter, grumbling in content.

''How... How was she ?''

''Like you. She had your freckles and your face. And your eyes. And your love for sweets too.''

''Hey ! I'm moderate with them.''

''I know. But you're eating them like if they would be the last things on earth that you could eat.''

Both laughed softly. Ymir closed her eyes. She thought of something, furrowing her brows. And as usual, her father noticed it.

''You want to ask me something...''

''Dad ? How... How did she died ?''

Her father didn't speak for a while this time. Five minutes, in fact. She didn't moved. She didn't opened her eyes. She didn't want to see him being angry, or dismissive. Sometimes, she asked that question. Those times, he would either leave their house for an hour or two before coming back, or not saying anything else about the subject. She never wanted to push him, despite her clear envy. She was too afraid of him, like any good child would be. But he didn't pushed her away, or leave. Because perhaps this time, it was a good occasion to talk about it.

''She became weak and sick some time before she got pregnant. When she got pregnant, however, it worsened, so much that at the fifth month, she needed to be hospitalized. They said that it was something linked to her lungs. Can't remember what. But it was hard. And despite that, your mother held on her strenght for you. When you were born, the doctors were incapable of keeping her alive, and so she died. But you were born. She fought for you.''

''Was it hard ?''

''Yes.''

''How hard ?''

''I didn't know what to do. I had no diploma and I couldn't afford the time to do so. The next days were... exhausting.''

A small silence. And he spoke.

''She was the love of my life. One night, I took a rifle and went outside while you slept. I knelt... and put the rifle against the roof of my mouth. I thought of pulling the trigger.''

Ymir slowly opened her eyes and looked at her father. To say she was surprised was an understatement. Her breathing had stopped, her heartbeat had skipped and she saw something within her father's eyes.

''What... made you stop ?''

''Your mother.''

''How ?''

''... I stayed outside for some time. Probably five minutes. Thinking. And during that time, everything is slow. You keep thinking about everything you did. Everything you lived. And I remembered your mother. Of something within her. Of something she instigated inside of me. Something that became stronger.''

''What was it ?''

''A fire.''

''A fire ?''

''Yes. A fire. Your mother had it. I have it. You have it.''

''I... have a fire ?''

''Yes.''

''Where is it ?''

''There.'' His finger layed upon her chest. ''It's there. I can see it.''

''What does it do ?''

''It guides you, whenever night falls. It keeps you alive. Keep it burning, however small, however hidden.''

''Why ?''

''That same fire will guide you to move forward. Like I did. I dropped the rifle, and swore that I will never touch it again. Because you're my daughter. Because you're the reason why she fought so hard until the bitter end. Because she wanted you to be happy.''

Another silence. Another moment to think about those words.

''Dad ?''

''Yes, Ymir ?''

''I love you.''

''I love you too. More than you do.''

''I don't want to lose you.''

''I don't want to lose you too.''

And throughout the night, both of them slept in each other's arms

* * *

Years later, she had lost him too, when she had been barely fourteen. Tuberculosis brought him to the grave. But nevertheless, he moved forward, despite everything that had been thrown at his life. He had done everything to ensure that Ymir would live a good life. And she did.

Until now.

The melody of the guitar stopped. She held it in her hand, immobile, staring into a thousand yards. Putting back the instrument into one side of the couch, Ymir lazily glanced into the only bottle left. Grabbing it, she lifted it up to her mouth to drink it.

She stopped.

Her eyes caught the sight of a picture hanging on the wall. She found herself drawn to it, barely hearing her footsteps when she got up and limped toward it.

Like a moth to a flame.

It was on the day of their fifth year of being together. They had met in a coffee shop. Krista had been the one to make the step. The picture showed her once wife dressed in white while standing on a beach. A hat – a silly one made of straw – was adorning her cute little head and her blonde hair was falling freely on her shoulders and her back. The most adorable, kindest and beautiful smile of her wife was hypnotising. It had been a wonderful day, to be with her. It had been wonderful to be with her. To kiss her. To feel her warmth when she would wake up everyday.

But she wasn't there anymore. The only thing she could find solace in was the alcohol. Her fists clenched. Ymir raised her bottle to her mouth. She stopped in her way once more.

For each time her heart beated in her chest, she remembered her father. Of what he had told of her mother. And what he told her before he would have died.

''You have a fire in you. Keep it burning, however small, however hidden. It guides you, whenever night falls.''

She became what her father fought so hard against. That she could become like him when he had been young. And her mother fought to keep her alive, even when her own survival was doomed. They struggled throughout those times and came out stronger. And what about her ? She fell into a pit of darkness and into that pit of darkness, she could see herself carrying the smallest of candles, shivering and on her knees. Afraid. Alone. Hurt. Angry. Desperate.

The endless darkness around her tried to snatch her away from the little candle. To keep her under their vile tendrils, to drown her into her own sorrow. But Ymir remembered her father. And soon, that little candle turned into a torch, burning like a star in the darkest of night. She could feel as if her father was pushing her into the right way. Soon enough, her little self got on both of her legs. And despite her wounds, she roared.

No.

Staring into the picture she had of her wife, Ymir furrowed her brows and looked down at the bottle she had drank from.

No.

She dropped it. It shattered, spilling its content into the floor. And while the darkness didn't vanish, she could feel it finally. She could feel that fire within her. That fire which told her to move forward. That fire which guided her into why she had fought so hard.

Staring back into the picture she had of her wife, she thought of it. Of what she had fought. Of what she had lost. The fire within her was burning, consumed by the happy memories they had shared. Of the first she asked her to be her wife. The first time they made love and felt connected. She was enraged that she had done something like that. Angry at herself. Angry at her own weakness to have fallen under such circumstances. Looking around her living room, littered with bottles, she swore on something, as the fire she carried within her burned brighter, with a determined look in her eyes.

''Never again will I lose you.''

* * *

The scent of salt, carried by the wind coming from the ocean irritated her nostrils, but in a way that can be only appreciated.

One year, she thought.

A bitter smile came to her face at the realization. It's been one year now that she left Ymir, after all this time. One year where she woke up without feeling the strong arms of her once wife around her every morning, every night. Her mind, once peaceful and calm, now riddled with worry and stressing out so much that she thought she would have grey hair when she'll turn thirty. And perhaps it would become the truth. Perhaps she would be older than most people think. It happened. Before everything happened with Ymir, she had been labelled as the girl who never lost her smile. It was true. Everyday, she wore a smile, proudly and without feeling afraid of what people could think of her. Especially with Ymir at her side. But now, she lost it, since the day Ymir had hit her and left her behind. She worn another kind of smile. The one she usually did before meeting Ymir. Always conveniently present, forced to wear a mask.

But now she didn't.

She laid her eyes upon the shack she used sometimes when she needed to be alone. Grey, small and almost inhabited, the painting worn out by the passage of time. It had always been there, as far as she could remember, and she decided to live in there. After all, no one ever came here. And it was alright. It was alright. She was on her own. No one ever came to visit her, exception for the few friends she had maked and a few acquaintainsces. But then again, she felt alone. Even the biting of the wind was barely making her flinch, for the glacial embrace of loneliness was stronger. She closed her eyes. Listening to the way the waves crashed against the shore, licking the sand and rejecting what the sea didn't wanted, or needed. And each time the waves crashed, her memories flooded back into her mind, from the sea of her consciousness. Alas, it didn't reject what she didn't wanted. If nothing else, she only felt sadder each time it happened.

The past always comes back to catch you up, after all, like the grey waves from the sea under a more grey sky.

''Krista.''

She didn't flinched. She didn't jumped. She didn't react. She welcomed the past, opening her eyes. She knew who it was.

Ymir looked better. A copycat of the Ymir she knew. Always that jacket she had with her, though the pants changed for something lighter. Her hair was short and tied up into a ponytail, no longer greasy and unkempt. Her face looked much more healthier and sharper than before. Only a few times had she saw Ymir during their break-up, but always from afar, and only for a confusing moment, always wondering if what she had been seeing had been a mirage or not. But right now, she knew it wasn't a mirage. She didn't loked like before. She didn't looked angry. She looked... calm. At peace. Instinctively, Krista glanced to her legs. Both of them were straight as arrows, strongly standing up.

''Does it hurt ?'' had been the first thing she asked.

''No. It doesn't.''

Krista ran a hand on her hair, tucking it back behind her ears as she stood up from the large, flat rock she had been sitting on for some time. The silence between them was broken by the chanting of the waves and the wind's lullaby. Neither of them spoke for a while, looking into each other's eyes, in search for something. Anything.

''This place...'' Ymir started to speak.

''Yes. This place.'' answered Krista back, her tone calm and collected.

''It's here that... we had our first time talking, instead of making-out. Right ?''

''Yes. It is.''

She saw her once wife smiling slightly. She stopped breathing, considering the sight. Of the reason why she came here.

''You talked about your father. You opened up to me.'' said Krista.

''Yes. I did.''

Again, the silence. For a moment.

''Why are you here ?''

''I remembered him.''

''Your father ?''

''Yes.''

''How so ?''

Ymir blinked slowly. She settled her glance aside, watching an old lighthouse in the distance on a cliff. She knew why. But she wanted an answer.

''I was angry because I can't do my job anymore. Still can't. And I drank. Like him. But one night, four or five months after you left, I remembered him. Like if, deep inside me, he lived there, telling me to stop lingering in something that can only numb the pain. Something just... broke. And I never wanted to drink again. Because I knew what I was doing wasn't something he would have wanted. Neither him or my mother. Because it was selfish of me and stupid. Because I was hurt. I just... want to be with you again, Krista. So much.''

Krista swallowed a lump of saliva, the noise drowned down by the gust of the wind.

''Why... didn't you see me earlier ?''

''I don't know. Perhaps because I knew what I did was unnaceptable and I can't cope with what I did. So I worked on myself. I did everything. Took my medication and went to therapy, all that... well, all that jazz.''

The blonde felt like she would have smiled. Ymir used to curse too much. And yet, she was afraid. Still afraid. Oh so afraid of what could happen. That she could be hit again. That she could be hurt by the very person she loved with all her heart. That she still kept loving even when they departed. Even when Ymir cheated on her.

''You're such an idiot.''

''I know.''

Slowly. Ymir turned her gaze toward her. And for a brief second, Krista saw vulnerability in them. It surprised her. But she didn't showed it.

''I can't tell you how sorry I am, Krista.''

The blonde closed her eyes at the statement. She contemplated those words. She thought of them. No one could disturb them. And she wished she could. Because it hurt so much. And Ymir continued.

''I wish I could speak for an hour or even a full day on for what I did, of how much of a prick I had been. But I know I can't, because poetry and I are two different things. I just...'' Ymir inhaled through her nose, blinking sometimes, fighting back what she wanted to not show. ''I'm just... so sorry, Krista.''

Krista opened her eyes. And she saw Ymir. The mental fortress she would usually have had crumbled.

''Come here.'' spoke the blonde

And Ymir came, taking a step forward before she knelt on both knees without even flinching and laid her head upon her chest. Krista herself felt tears prickling at the corner of her eyes. Her blue, sapphire eyes bored into the eyes of her lover as Ymir looked up.

''Krista...''

''Ymir...''

Both whispered their names, drowned by the noise of the sea.

* * *

Love was a storm, bringing with it a trail of sensations and inner feelings that one couldn't even describe properly, at first roaring before it ended in nothing more but a whisper of what once it was.

Ymir's heartbeat was calm, like the sea, the waves crashing more silently against the shore and the wind no longer roaring in the afternoon. The moon was shining in the sky on both of them. Krista was laying her head on top of her lover's chest, at peace. Ymir had a hand in her hair, gently running over it, molten gold falling on the lenght of her back like a cascade. She thought that perhaps, they would have fought for much longer. That there would have been crying from both parties, perhaps even punching effortlessly against their chest or so. But perhaps Ymir had watched too many sappy romantic movies with Krista and her friends because, for some reason, Krista loved those movies despite having the nearly identical plots every damn time.

But they weren't able to replicate some things. Like the way her wife's lips tasted, how the warmth of her body beckoned so sweetly to her. It was like time had stopped, and the world stopped existing aside for themselves. Hazy, blurry memories flooded her mind again and again. Gentle lips trailing kisses along the inner thigh, hands clutching to the hips, and the soft moans of Krista, ready to unleash a cry of pleasure, before nestling her head between the legs.

''What are you smiling about ?'' asked the blonde, one hand tracing patterns on the six-pack of her lover.

''Nothing.''

''Tell me.''

''Hmm. I don't know. Perhaps it's because of that wonderful blonde in my arms who keeps snuggling into me ?'' Ymir said, raising her eyes to the ceiling as if she was thinking deeply about it.

Krista laughed softly. A gentle melody which send shivers down Ymir's spine like the soft embrace of a breeze in summer, kissing the skin and giving goosebumps. She missed it. Dearly. And she cherished every second of it.

''Hey, Ymir...''

''Yes ?''

''... How hard was it ? To be alone ?''

''At first... I don't know. I drank too much. But after a while, it just wasn't enough. I think that, if it wasn't for my father... I would have been a goner the moment I would have taken drugs.''

''You think so ?''

''I don't know.'' admitted Ymir, a shaky sigh leaving her mouth. ''But I don't intend to know any of it.''

Krista didn't speak further. Neither did Ymir. They both enjoyed the silence for a moment, again. Pillow talks weren't usually Ymir's type, but perhaps she could give it a shot. For her.

''And... how about you ?''

''You know the answer, Ymir.''

''... Did you drink too ?''

''You know that answer too. If it was the case, I'm sure I would have died since then.''

She facepalmed herself in her mind. Again, she was bad with words. But despite that, it didn't looked like Krista was bothered by it. But something startled her. Deep within her. Something that she was so ashamed of something she had done that her father would have probably came up from hell to give her one hell of a beating.

''And... when I hit you. Why do you love me despite that ? And when I cheated on you ? And said those things ?''

Krista stayed silent. She couldn't read her mind, and so she waited on for a minute before she finally spoke.

''I was scared and hurt, mostly. But I never stopped loving you, Ymir. It was...'' Krista's grip on her tightened slightly. ''I felt betrayed. But I never stopped loving you. And I never will, Ymir. Because you never left me behind. Even when I wasn't in the best of states when you met me, you didn't. You know how much I hated myself and how much I had been pushed around by people. To become someone who I didn't wanted to be. But you never lost faith in me. You weren't the kindest but you weren't one of them. And that's why I still loved you. Even when I left you. You pushed me forward when I couldn't dare to do so.'' Looking up into her eyes, Krista Lenz smiled. And Ymir felt her throat squeeze, along with her chest, at such a sight. ''I hated you when you cheated on me. I felt scared of you. But I loved you. Because I know that otherwise, you wouldn't have done it. Because you were as hurt and lost as I was when you met me. And I felt lost and hurt too, when we left.''

Ymir closed her eyes, suppressing a sob which wanted to leave her mouth. She suppressed another one when Krista leaned up to press a kiss to her cheek, and her jaw, and her brow. She hated herself for what she had done. For the misery she had forced them to go through.

''I'm the worse idiot of all.'' spoke Ymir, through gritted teeth.

''But you're my idiot.'' replied back Krista after a moment, and rested her head once again on her chest. ''An idiot I would gladly live the rest of my life with.''

''Really ?''

''Really''

Ymir rubbed her eyes with her forearm before she rolled unto her side and snatched something from the content of her jacket before getting back into the bed with her wife. Their wedding rings. Slowly, Ymir putted it back into Krista's fingers, and her own, before the brunette held their hands together and intertwined their fingers. Ymir felt good. And so did Krista.

''Always ?''

''Always.''

And in the night, they were each other's candles, one guiding the other into the darkness of this world.

* * *

Two years later...

Everything changed. For the better.

She had fought hard for her dream. And while she didn't get the chance to be again in the field, Ymir held the job as an instructor for the new recruits at the shooting range and recovered completely in the mental domain. Her leg didn't hurt anymore, and she couldn't have the same mobility as before, but it was better than nothing. Across the states, she had been the rising star among instructors when it came to teaching. Everywhere in the department, they called her the Dancing Valkyrie, for her past exploits, and for the few times where she fought against newer recruits despite her wound. Soon enough, she had even been given the medal of Bravery and Valor from her higher ups after she had cleaned her name.

Never again had she drank excessively, and never did she took drugs. When offered to join a certain group known in the country as one who often dealed with people who had issues related to those she had lived through, she had been initially reluctant, but after much convaincing from her wife and a few of her friends, she agreed. No long after, she related the story of her father and her own to those who needed it the most. Much of his wisdom had been known, along with her own story and thoughts. She would be often seen on tv shows, to spread her story or to discuss with important figures.

One day, she had decided to wed her wife once more. To solidify their vows after the hardships they face. To start anew. And so she did. In Iceland, the country of where she had been born. She invited all of her friends and relatives. The wedding turned out to be greater than expected, with Ymir inviting old acquaintainces of the town she knew of. She had put everything she had at heart into this.

Despite being in summer, the land they were in were rather cold, but it didn't looked like everyone was bothered by it. From afar, the brunette watched her wife dancing with one of her friends, that fool, Reiner. Everything was perfect.A smile came to her face. She wanted to cry. And perhaps she would have cried. Polar lights were dancing in the sky in fluid motions, bright colors swirling in the dark canvas painted with shining diamonds and a bright moon.

She wondered how her father would have been if he had been there. And she let her imagination run wild.

''I'm so proud of you, Ymir.'' He would have said. Her father would have probably wear something relatively casual. Perhaps a shirt and a tie, and some shoes to go along with it. Perhaps he would have trimmed his beard and his hair to look younger and happier. Smiling and holding a glass of brandy, he would have nudged his daughter on her side. ''So proud of you.''

''I miss you dad,'' she thought in her mind, staring out into the horizon. ''I miss you so much.''

''I know, baby girl.'' would he reply and wrapped an arm around her, while staring out into the scenery with her. ''I know. And your mother misses you too. But we're here. In the fire you burn in yourself. And as long as it will burn, we will be here. Always.''

''Ymir ?''

She broke out from her trance and glanced to the side. Her wife had approached her and she was wearing her wedding dress. She was beautiful in that. Smiling, she wrapped an arm around her and brought her closer.

''Hey, baby...''

''What were you doing ?''

''I was taking a breath. But I found myself thinking of my father. What he could have done if he had been there. How much he would have liked you.''

''Oh, Ymir...'' Krista laid her head against her side, wrapping both arms around her waist. ''He would be so proud of you. He loves you a lot. You know that, right ?''

''I know. As long as I carry the fire. He had always been able to see it... In me.''

Rare were the times where Ymir would be poetic. Smiling in amusement and in awe, she leaned up on her toes to kiss her wife on the cheek and glanced at the scenery, both contemplating and taking in everything.

''I need to tell you something.'' started Krista after a moment.

''What is it... ?''

Ymir glanced at her wife. Softly, Krista backed away from her and she smiled up at her, before she rested a hand on her belly. One second. Two. Three. Four. Five. And Ymir froze when she realized what it meant. And truly, she smiled. Tears fell from her eyes, as well as Krista's.

''How long ?''

''Two months... I wanted it to keep it as a secret and tell you today.''

Ymir wanted to speak. But she couldn't. And instead, she embraced her wife in a tight hug. If her father had been there, he would have smiled at the sight. And if he would have been there, he would have told her something amazingly sweet.

''We'll be here. Always.''

She cried silently of happiness. Even in the darkest of pits, there could be stars shining through the veil. Looking down into her wife's eyes, she smiled more.

''Hey ! Guys ! Why staying over there, come here !'' cried out one of her friends.

''Let's go, Ymir.'' Krista took her hand in hers, smiling as she tug her along.

One last time, Ymir glanced behind her back. And she saw him. Her father, smiling brightly at her, along with her mother. Was it a dream ? Was it an illusion ? She didn't know. But she felt the fire within her burning brighter.

'Thank you' she mouthed to them.

And with that, Ymir moved forward.


End file.
